Page 105 of Unravelling: Aria & Crispin
To his credit, Crispin tried to work from home as much as he could. He made her lunch when he had a break. He brought her tea she didn't ask for. And every night, no matter how tired, he read to the baby.
But Aria wasn't stupid. Something was going on.
She caught the clipped calls. There was tension in his tone when he had hushed conversations on the phone. He wouldn't tell her what was going on, and she didn't press. Not yet.
Until one afternoon, Rosa came into the lounge and said, "There's someone here. He says he wants to speak to you. You don't have to, but he says it was urgent. And that he has something important to tell you."
Aria frowned.
Moments later, Crispin appeared from his upstairs office, his expression tight.
"There's someone who wants to talk to you. And I know you hate him, but he's sorry, Aria. He really is. You can tell him to fuck off, I won't stop you. But he asked for this chance. I can tell him to go away if you want me to."
When Aria gave him a short nod, he stepped aside.
Dorian walked in.
He was uncharacteristically hesitant, hands in his coat pockets, his eyes did not meet hers at first.
"I came to say I was wrong," he said abruptly. "About you. About...everything."
Aria folded her arms as Crispin hovered like a thundercloud. He had told her that Dorian had arranged for the house in his absence. He also told her about Dorian supporting him during the vote.
Aria shooed Crispin off. She suspected he would not let Dorian speak for fear of upsetting her.
Dorian grimaced. "I can't blame Crispin for not trusting me. I was a rude, ignorant arsehole during that dinner. And I let Crispin down. I know that. But I'm hoping you might...eventually forgive me."
"I'll think about it," she said coolly.
Dorian nodded. "Fair enough. That's probably the best I deserve."
She added, "Crispin told me what happened with the board. How your loyalty never wavered, even when his father tried to knife him in the back."
That had softened something, just a little.
"Are you here to make amends," she asked, "or just to rehearse your Oscar speech?"
"Bit of both, honestly." Dorian cracked a grin. "You're scarier than you look."
"You were just nasty. Barely human that day."
"I am ashamed. I should have known better. I will do better."
"Does that mean you would consider making me the baby's godfather? Crispin and I had promised each other that."
"Don't push your luck." Aria retorted.You give an inch...
They bantered. Dorian was apologetic, while Aria lanced him with a sharp-edged tongue for being 'a pompous entitled bore'.
And when Crispin returned with three mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits while pretending not to eavesdrop, they were already mid-sarcastic volley.
"You're lucky I didn't murder your best friend," Aria told Crispin.
"I was willing to risk it," he said, sipping.
Something like peace had settled in the room.
She smiled over her tea. The sunroom had been quiet until that moment, just the low murmur of their earlier conversation. But now, Dorian's posture shifted, and his smile faded. "There's something else," he said.
